Routines
by WalkingWit
Summary: Everyday routines. Spam fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Routines**

He loved waking up to find her next to him, or to hear the shower running. They just _worked _together. They fit. Her blonde curls would be sprawled out on her pillow on her side of the bed, and she would wake up with much difficulty. She would raised her head and rub her eyes blearily. She would look over at her husband and a small smile would always fall upon her lips. She would creep out of bed as not to wake him up, pushing the blankets aside. Her bare feet padded out of the room, leading her into the bathroom for her morning shower.

By the time she was getting dressed, he would be in the kitchen cooking. She was a terrible chef, no one wanted food poisoning. The pot of coffee was ready to go, black, just the way she liked it. She would stride into the kitchen, buttoning up her blouse. It took him all his might not to unbutton it when he caught a glimpse of her skin.

He handed her the plate of eggs and bacon, receiving a kiss in return.

"I have so much to do today," she complained, taking a long sip of coffee.

"Crazy hooligans messing up the school?" he asked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, "You have no idea."

She had become a high school guidance counselor, to everyone's surprise. Her life pretty much sucked when she was younger, and she thought that if she had someone to talk to back then, she wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble.

"I'm sure they're not that bad," he replied, taking a bite of the breakfast he prepared.

"Oh, they are. Especially this one kid. His parents are almost as bad as mine," she seethed slightly. That kid had a messed up life with a drunk for a mother. His father left two days after his birth, and suddenly showed up to 'bond.'

"I find that hard to believe," he frowned..

"Oh, he is. I can't tell you much, confidentiality thing, but vodka and school don't mix well."

"He has a tough life, he can sober up."

"Either way, he's a high school student. He shouldn't be doing that," Sam replied primly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head, "You're not that much older than them. You sound so parental."

It was true, Sam was twenty-six, not even ten years older than the seniors.

"Better to relate to them, m'dear," she smiled, standing to deposit her empty plate and mug in the kitchen sink.

Spencer washed the dishes and Sam rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth again. It was one of her little quirks.

Their apartment was 'organized chaos,' so to speak. When Sam first moved in, Spencer was regulated to three drawers in the five-drawer dresser. Sam had placed all of her clothes in their newly shared closet, rattling something about breathable fabric. The bathroom had become cramped. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, Sam's small collection of make-up, Spencer's shaving cream and razor, Sam's razor, Midol, and pads, all sat behind the mirror of the medicine cabinet. Spencer's art was scattered throughout the living room and upstairs in Carly's old room. It had been transformed into an art studio with different sculptures, paintings, and sketches. The paintings were propped up on the wall, the sketches in various notebooks stuffed into various bins. Spencer's art had become more popular with the Seattle crowd, and it sold for a pretty penny. He often had gallery showings at the art gallery downtown. He stopped teaching at the state university when business picked up, but did occasionally act as guest speaker for art students at middle schools and high schools.

Sam's files and paperwork were mostly in her office at school. She brought home students' files sometimes if she ran out of time during the school day. More often than not, she would be in charge of overseeing after-school detention. She would sit at the desk in the detention room and the memories of all of her detentions would come flooding back to her. She was such an awful kid back then. Most of the kids she saw didn't want her to be 'shrinking' them. She would dole out pamphlets and books and give measured advice. The worst were the addicts and the pregnant girls, in her opinion. The addicts were easier to talk to though, she knew what it was like, her parents both being druggies and alcoholics; the girls were simply hysterical and hadn't told their parents.

After a few months of living together, Sam and Spencer had gotten a routine down pat. Sam would wake up first, take a quick shower and by the time she got to the kitchen, breakfast would be ready. Sam would head to work. Spencer would then take a shower and get dressed. He would retreat to his studio and sculpt, paint, whatever came to him that day. He would venture to the supply store once every week or so to re-stock. He would get calls from different galleries and different people interested in buying. He would get requests from the eccentric wealthy people for elaborate sculptures, and do his best on each and every one. Sam would get home at four, except for Tuesdays when there were staff meetings. Once she got home, she would fall onto the couch, without fail. She should've remembered how awful teenagers were. Spencer would start on dinner at six, they'd eat, and every few weeks would go to an art gallery or a movie. There was nothing wrong with a routine that worked.

Spencer and Sam were able to predict the other person's movements. The way Sam reached for the coffee mug, how she could tell when Spencer was behind her. Whenever Sam woke up, she would hit the snooze button at least three times, annoyed by the early morning routine. Her clothes were always set out the night before, after checking the weather report. Spencer would smell her shampoo on the pillow when he woke up, he found the smell of strawberries soothing. As he shuffled into the kitchen, he'd know by heart where Sam's belongings were. He could tell that she was dressed and walking into the kitchen when he caught a whiff of her perfume.

Sam trudged into the house one Thursday afternoon, shrugging off her coat and hanging up her bag on the coatrack. She kicked off her flats and sunk onto the couch, without fail. She had been on her feet all day. A fight broke out between two students which had turned into an all-out brawl involving ten students. She was walking down the hall to the teacher's lounge when she saw the fight. She used her old brute force and split them up, threatening to get them expelled. The students got sent to the principal's office, parents were called, and Sam gave a lecture on violence and handed out informational pamphlets. She felt like a hypocrite, having started her fair share of fights a decade ago. The two students who originally started the fight had a week suspension and it was noted on their records. The other eight students had three-day suspensions. Tomorrow, the school was to hold an assembly on violence after worried parents called in to express their concerns. Sam shook her head. They were coddling these kids way too much. No wonder most of them were spoiled brats who thought they could get away with everything.

"A fight?" Spencer raised a brow during dinner.

"Is it bad that I found it a bit amusing. Their faces afterwards, I mean?" Sam smirked. Those punks deserved it.

"What were they fighting about?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. Apparently it's over a girl. That's just dumb as hell."

Spencer snorted. Sam sighed, rolling her neck. She became a counselor to help kids, to give them the advice she never got. She has no reason to regret her job choice.

After dinner, Sam stretched, exhausted. She unbuttoned a few buttons her green top, feeling stifled. She fanned herself as she sat on the couch. Spencer sat next to her. She rested her head on his chest, calmed by him playing with her hair.

"Any new sculptures?" she asked.

"Yep. For that crazy Elsner."

"The magazine publisher?" Sam asked.

Spencer nodded in the affirmative, running his hands through her long locks.

"That's great," she smiled, lifting her head to give him a soft kiss.

It were these little, simple moments that made everything worthwhile for them. It was comfortable and they were happy. How much more could they ask for?

* * *

**I'm not sure whether or not I should continue this. It just came to me as a one-shot. Please review.**


	2. Day Jobs

**Day Jobs**

Carly Benson (nee Shay) sighed as she turned over in bed to see the other side empty. This was all too reoccurring as of late. She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. She glanced over to the old-fashioned clock next to her and saw that it was six in the morning. Next to it was a note: _Had to go to work early. Meeting about the merger. Might be late for dinner."_

She frowned in annoyance and figured she might as well get out of bed. She racked through her closet and pulled out a pencil skirt and a white button down blouse. She glanced outside of the large bay window and smiled at the sunrise. Carly walked into the bathroom, showered, got dressed, and walked into the kitchen. A pot of coffee was waiting on the counter for her next to a post-it.

_There's food in the fridge. Pancakes and eggs :)_

Carly smiled at the little note and opened the stainless steel fridge.

After eating and washing and drying the dishes, Carly went downstairs into the garage and got into her Mini Cooper lease.

Forty minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of Lohman and Geertz Law Firm. She walked into the lobby, took messages from her secretary Linda, and took a seat in her cramped office. She took out the files from her briefcase and began to sort through the files for the Johnson divorce. How she ended up a divorce lawyer, she wasn't sure. She was suppose to be a criminal lawyer, but her father and Freddie convinced her that it was too dangerous. That her life would be on the line. She stared out the window wistfully before focusing on the settlement that Anne Johnson wanted from her ex-husband, Howard Johnson. She had cringed three days ago when she learned that there was a child involved. It was always worse with a child in the mix. She usually tried to ask the child who they wanted to stay with, and tried to make it happen, no matter which parent she was defending.

"Benson," a portly, aging man opened the door.

"Yes, Mr. Lohman?" she looked up from the file, putting the cap on her highlighter.

Lohman shuffled into the room and sat in the chair across from Carly.

"We have a problem," he started.

"Yes..."

"Anne Johnson doesn't want Howard to have shared custody," he told her.

Carly's eyes narrowed, "Alright. She should've called me. I am her attorney."

"She wants someone to oversee. She thinks you're going to try and give the kid to the father," he sighed.

"That's absurd! Both parents should see the child," she frowned, chewing her lip.

"Well, work something out with her, kid. She's a bit," Lohman made circular motions near his ear.

"I'll call her right away," Carly nodded.

Lohman left the office, and Carly pushed the papers aside and took the phone, starting to dial.

* * *

Sam sighed as she headed back to her office after the hour-long assembly. She was bored out of her mind, how the hell could the principal expect the students to stay awake, let alone pay attention?

She plopped down on her cushioned chair and looked at the stack of summons waiting to be sent to hormonal, emotional teenagers. She was tired, and it was only nine in the morning.

She took a glance at her clock. Her first 'client' wouldn't be to see her until 9:20. She got up made her way to the staff lounge. All of the offices were located on the main floor of the building, making it easy for her. She found the coffee pot had been emptied already. She opened a cupboard and took out the communal coffee. She set up the pot and placed her already-empty thermos on the counter. A thermos usually lasted her the entire day, but this morning had been too much to bear.

"Hey, Sammy," a voice greeted from behind her. She scowled.

"My name's Samantha, Drew," she turned around to face Drew Larro, the football coach.

"But Sammy should be your nickname, it's cute," he smiled.

Sam rolled her eyes, "Sammy is the dumbest nickname I have ever heard. It's either Sam or Samantha, take your pick."

"Fine then Sam, how are you this fine morning?" he asked, smile still plastered onto his face.

"Just dandy," she deadpanned.

She took the pot of coffee and poured the piping hot liquid into her thermos. She saw Drew still standing there with the same stupid grin on his face. She rolled her eyes yet again.

"Do you want something?" she asked.

"A date," the football coach blurted out.

Sam stopped moving, "I'm married."

"Still? Sh-t, I would've thought you two had split by now," he snorted.

"Bye," Sam walked out of the lounge, shaking off the disgusting feeling she got near his presence.

Drew had started working at the high school not long before Sam did. Ever since she started two years ago, the idiot had been pursuing her. Two years ago, she was engaged and made it clear she had no interest, but he couldn't take a blatant statement.

Sam shrunk into her chair to drink her coffee. Her first counsel-ee came in. Brigitta Andrews was a small girl, senior, easily stressed out, and panicky about college.

"Lou and Dina already heard back from Stanford. Why haven't I? I mean, if it's by last name, I should've known by now," Brigitta twitched in her seat.

"Brigitta," Sam started, "Lou and Dina applied for early decision. It is January. You will now in March or April. Either way, it's harder to get in early decision. More are rejected."

"Alright," the blonde swallowed.

"How are your grades holding up?" Sam ventured.

"Fine. I feel like I'm always tired though, being a second semester senior and all," she twiddled her thumbs.

Sam took a sip of coffee, "You aren't taking adderall anymore?"

Another fidget.

"No. It's driving me crazy. I need to stay awake to study. It's been a few weeks, and I'm drained!" Brigitta sobbed, "I'm never going to get into college. I'm a drug addict!"

"May I suggest you attend group therapy. It's near school, your parents don't have to know since you're eighteen, but it'd be better if they did. It's for people addicted to prescription drugs," Sam explained calmly, sliding a pamphlet over to her.

Brigitta nodded, "Thanks, Mrs. Shay. I should be heading back to Lit."

"Bye, Brigitta," Sam waved as the girl walked out.

Sam closed her eyes and opened them to find a tall, lanky boy in the corner.

"Hello James. What's going on?" she asked the sophomore.

"My parents are driving me crazy with their divorce. I want to stay with my dad," James started to ramble, "but my mom's gone bat-shit crazy..."

Sam nodded, looking at the boy.

"Is there any way for me to be emancipated?" he asked.

"That's probably not the best idea. You don't have a job, you're still in school. It could strain yours and your parents relationship forever. Trust me," Sam smiled lightly, "try sitting both of them down to explain..."

"Mom thinks Dad brainwashed me. At least her attorney is really nice. She asked me who I want to stay with," he shrugged.

"That's good," Sam nodded.

Half an hour later, James left, still thinking about his parents. Next came Lisa, who was pregnant. After her came Jim, who was bullied for being gay. Derek, a football player was last for the day. He had taken steroids to bulk up for the season, only to find himself feeling sick, and afraid of getting caught.

* * *

Freddie sat in a board meeting, twirling his pen about his fingers. The long awaited Pear and Apple merger was set to happen, when was the only issue.

"Benson, what do you think about the computer?"

"It's too susceptible to viruses. It's almost as bad as Microsoft. I thought the reason we were merging was to beat out Microsoft's sudden increase in sales," he stated simply.

Steve Jobs looked at him, "You're right. We're working on that. Other than that, though?"

"The design is sleek, it's lightweight, the internet is fast, it comes with practically every program...I'd give it a go once the virus problem is fixed," he leaned back in his chair.

Thirty minutes later, the four hour meeting was over, and Freddie head to the parking lot, ready to go home.

"You're such a suck-up, dude," his colleague, thirty-year-old Philip Zellen smirked.

"Go home man, just because I'm productive..."

"You're the favorite because you're the youngest one here and you just go along with whatever the big bosses say. You know the computer is going to be crap. Apple hit its hey day in the early 2000s. Once the iPad came out, it all went downhill from there," Philip ranted.

"Wrong. We're going to spearhead another tech boom, like the internet boom in the 90s."

"So young, so naive," Philip laughed. He bid Freddie goodbye and ducked into his car.

Freddie shook his head and settled into his car, annoyed and amused at the same time.

* * *

Spencer stared at the sculpture he had created. He had finally finished the dinosaur that the natural history museum had requested, and it was ready to go. He wiped his oil and gunk ridden hands onto his pants. Sure, the sculpture was unconventional, but it was pretty damn impressive, standing at twelve feet tall.

Spencer trudged into the bathroom to shower and change his clothes. He knew that when Sam came home, she'd complain about the smell. Ten minutes later, Spencer threw on a white tee and sunk onto the couch. He glanced at the clock. In five, four, three...

Sam came barreling through the door, tossing her bag onto the floor and throwing her jacket aside. Her hair was damp from the rain. The one day she parked farther away from the school entrance, it rained just as school was letting out. She threw the light sweater she wore over her blouse to the floor. She unbuttoned the first few buttons of her blouse and sat down on the couch and snuggled next to Spencer, shivering.

"You know, more body heat is transferred skin to skin," he grinned, running his hand on Sam's back.

"I'm well aware," Sam matched his grin.

Spencer moved his face closer to hers, "How was your day?"

"It just got a lot better," Sam kissed her husband softly. Spencer deepened the kiss, shifting so that he loomed on top of Sam.

"Mine too," he smiled and kissed her, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sam smiled.

* * *

**I decided to continue, obviously. I was hit with inspiration, so I oblige. Please review.**


	3. Friday, I'm in Love

**Friday, I'm in love (Saturday and Sunday, too)**

Sam sunk into the warm water, relaxing after a long week at work. She closed her eyes, letting the water seep into her pores, as if to re-hydrate herself. The week had been hectic, far too hectic for her own good. Now that it was Friday, she was excited to just relax and enjoy time with her husband. She opened her eyes and figured she had pruned her skin enough for the evening. She stood up and rinsed herself off, letting the water run down the drain. She took the towel hanging from rack and wrapped it around herself after drying off. She put on her underwear and her bra before stepping into the bedroom. She racked through the closet in an attempt to find something to wear. It was too cold for a short dress without tights, but her long dresses were too formal for a simple dinner and then dessert at Galini's. She bit her lip before deciding on a black skirt that hit at the knee and a green v-neck shirt. She dug out her boots from the closet and zipped them up.

Spencer walked into their bedroom, wearing a button down white shirt and black slacks, and grinned Sam. He eyed the high heeled boots and her legs before his gaze up to her face.

"I'm almost ready, hold on," she said as she pulled her hair into a chignon.

Spencer placed his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. He kissed her softly before deepening it. Sam wrapped her arms around his neck, massaging his tongue with her own.

"We're never going to get to dinner," she breathed heavily.

"I can cancel the reservation," Spencer offered before kissing her neck.

"Mhmm," Sam nodded, "it's such a waste though. We hardly ever go out!" her voice hitched as Spencer's hands made way underneath her skirt. "Go cancel, hurry."

Spencer left the room to call the restaurant and strode back in the room two minutes later. Sam rushed up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Spencer stepped forward, pinning Sam against the wall. Sam lowered her hands to the front of Spencer's shirt, unbuttoning it.

* * *

Later, the couple lay in bed, glowing. Sam rolled onto her side to face Spencer and drew circles on his stomach with her thumb.

"That never gets old," she mused with a contented sigh.

"I sure hope not," Spencer snorted, running a hand through his short hair.

Sam laughed, "It won't, don't worry old man."

"I'm not old," Spencer replied, offended.

"You're going to be forty," Sam wrinkled her nose.

"In four years," Spencer rolled his eyes, turning over to face away from Sam.

"Is it your bed time, gramps?" Sam teased, poking his shoulder.

"I want a divorce," Spencer grumbled, looking over his shoulder. His eyes softened at the sight of Sam's scowl, "or not."

"Smart man," she nodded, wrapping her arms around Spencer waist, closing her eyes.

"G'night," Spencer whispered.

"Night."

* * *

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Sam groaned and buried herself further underneath the covers. She felt a shift next to her and poked her head out from underneath to see Spencer slip on sweatpants and a shirt.

"Who is it?" she mumbled, rolling over and out of bed.

"I have no idea," Spencer yawned..

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Damn, we're coming!" Sam muttered in annoyance.

She slid out of bed and adjusted the large flannel-shirt she was wearing. She buttoned the loose buttons and attempted to pull her hair back. Her riotous blonde curls wouldn't cooperate, so she tied her hair with a scrunchie. Sam found a pair of shorts and slid them on before following Spencer to the living room. She briefly wondered about how odd she looked-a long flannel shirt, shorts, and knee high tube socks. Oh well.

"What time is it?" Sam grumbled, settling in the kitchen. She peered at the clock, narrowing her eyes. It was eleven.

Spencer opened the door to reveal a frazzled Mrs. Benson.

"Good morning, you two," she greeting, going inside.

Sam and Spencer shared a look.

"Hi Mrs. Benson, coffee?" Sam offered.

"No thanks, Sam," she looked at her then at Spencer, "Did you just wake up?"

Spencer nodded.

"We had a long night," Sam smirked, sipping a cup of coffee.

"We went to dinner and came home a bit late," Spencer lied.

"That's nice," she nodded.

"Why, uh, are you here?" Spencer asked.

"Have you heard from Freddie?" she asked.

Sam rolled her eyes, "No, but Carly said he's been busy with the merger. If the bosses like him enough, he could get a promotion."

Mrs. Benson relaxed visibly.

"Oh good, I thought he was hiding, or that he and Carly had been having trouble."

Spencer shrugged, "Not that I'm aware of."

"It was either that or Carly was pregnant and they were afraid to tell me I'm going to be a grandma," she smiled, "that'd be nice."

Sam choked on her coffee, coughing loudly, "She's definitely not pregnant. Freddie hasn't been home much, lately."

Spencer gave Sam a slight glare, causing Sam to cover her mouth.

Mrs. Benson frowned, "So they are having trouble?"

"No, no, no," Sam shook her head, "there have just been a lot of meetings and going in early and staying late. Nothing big."

Mrs. Benson relaxed again. She apologized for barging in without notice and went home.

Sam stared at Spencer, "Your sister's mother in law is cracked."

"I'm well aware," he deadpanned.

"Carly's so getting yelled at. Can't she go bug them?"

"She lives across the hall from us," Spencer replied.

"Can we move?" Sam asked hopefully.

Spencer paused, "Do you want to move?"

Sam shrugged, "I was joking. I love it here. Maybe someday we could have a house, but this is great."

"Okay," Spencer nodded.

"I'm going back to sleep," Sam said and headed back to the bedroom, "you coming?"

"Yeah," Spencer nodded, "I'll be there in a sec."

Sam nodded. Once she was out of sight, Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe they should buy a house soon?

* * *

"You suck," Sam greeted Carly the next day at Galini's.

"You told me on the phone," Carly rolled her eyes.

Sam took a seat across from her sister-in-law and best friend. She folded her hands in front of her and looked at the brunette with a critical eye.

"What?" Carly asked, feeling self-conscious.

"How are things, though? You said Freddie's never home. You've only been married since June, it's too early for this."

Carly sighed, "We're fine. Once the merger goes through, everything will be back to normal." A beat. "I've been pretty busy. The stress is killing me. I can't help thinking that I made a mistake in becoming a divorce lawyer. They're all so viscous. I could handle a criminal better," she rambled.

Sam offered a small smile. The waiter brought them their coffee and pie. Sam immediately dug in, shoveling pie into her mouth. Carly moved the piece of pie around on her plate. Sam stared at her mid-bite.

"You okay? You love this pie..."

"I'm not hungry," Carly shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.

"How can you not be hungry?"

Carly snorted, "I know it's hard for you to believe, but some people aren't hungry all the time."

"You work all day, you need food," Sam insisted, waving her fork in Carly's face.

"Fine, fine," she took a bite, "there."

"Now finish it."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Carly, I will hurt you if you don't eat," Sam threatened, waving the fork in her face once again.

"Fine," she nibbled on a forkful of pie.

Half an hour later, Sam had finished two slices and Carly managed to finish one. They stood up and shrugged on their coats. Carly adjusted her pink knit beret and Sam pulled her dark gray knit cap on her head.

They bid each other farewell, and went their separate ways.

* * *

Freddie shuffled the papers in front of him, going over graphs and statistics. Carly opened the front door and walked in, energized from her talk with Sam. She took off her coat and matching hat, hanging it up on the coatrack in their apartment.

"Hey," Freddie greeted, looking up briefly.

"Hi," Carly sat down on the couch across from Freddie.

"Good pie?" he asked.

"Yeah. I forgot to bring you a piece," Carly replied sheepishly.

"It's fine, we can go later," Freddie shrugged. He picked up his laptop from the coffee table and typed in something.

"You almost done?" Carly asked.

Freddie nodded, "After this week, the merger will be official. The new computer is set for June."

"That's great," she grinned.

Freddie clicked the computer shut and looked at Carly.

"Where do you want to go for dinner?" he asked.

"You're done," Carly stated blankly.

"Yeah..." he looked confused.

Carly got up from her seat and sat down on Freddie's lap. She kissed him briefly. A smile formed on Freddie's face.

"If I knew dinner would get you so excited..."

"Oh shush you," Carly giggled, pressing a kiss to Freddie's cheek.

* * *

Fluff and happiness. Please review.


End file.
